Saturdays

Far, too far away, in a pale morning mood, a cheap towel draped along the sink—faded pinks and oranges stopped me cold, threw me clean back to endless sliding childhood memories booming from across the vast gray sea, bang-zoom into the heart of the old domestic routine, water running down the porcelain draining out luscious time itself, and you realize life follows you follows life follows life itself follows infinitely into the roaring heart everyday.